While Trudging Through the Muck One Day
by DeniseV
Summary: Atlantis' premiere away team, oops, make that offworld team, has an unfortunate encounter with a people in the midst of a civil war. Heading home they run into trouble yet again.


"Hey, come on, buddy. It's time to get up," Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard said to his favorite cranky scientist.

"Aw. Ow," Dr. Rodney McKay responded, followed immediately by, "Why?"

"Well, we still have a few hours to hike before we'll reach the Stargate." More like ten. "It's going to be slow going," Sheppard added as he swiped his still somewhat damp bangs from his forehead.

No kidding.

They had flown through the Stargate in a Puddle Jumper; that was their first mistake. No, make that their second. Their first mistake was going ahead with this mission in the first place. Teyla's knowledge of the planet and the inhabitants had given the heads up that getting to the villages from the gate was a difficult overnight trek – in good weather. In order to avoid the complications inherent in such a trip – and to keep from hearing Rodney complain incessantly about having such a long walk ahead of them – the decision was made to take the Ancient's spacecraft and land as close to the village as possible.

That location, as it turned out, would still be well away from the primary Ma'Cai village, but a two hour walk beat an eighteen hour hike with Rodney McKay any day.

At least you'd think that it would.

They had spent nearly a full day getting to know the natives, with Teyla reacquainting herself with the village leaders. They had intended to stay for the Ma'Cai equivalent of a Hawaiian luau, but that plan was blown to hell around midday when the village was attacked. Marin, the elder statesman, person, and leader of her people had explained about skirmishes with rebel forces who had already made one attempt to drive her from power.

The Atlantis team had agreed through covert glances and occasional private conversations throughout the day that it was not their place to take sides in this fight, this civil war amongst the Ma'Cai people, Marin's impassioned arguments in favor of her leadership notwithstanding. There was little they could have learned in the six or so hours they'd been there about both arguments in this fight to have the requisite knowledge to choose one side over the other. Each member of Atlantis' premiere off world team had found it a lot more than ironic that the Ma'Cai leader had spent so much of their time together defending her own counterattacks and jailing of captured rebel fighters rather than working on questions of trade, or even just getting to know more about these strangers in their midst. To John Sheppard, the day seemed more like a recruitment session than anything else.

Sheppard and company had defended their positions at the onset of the attack and fired back when compelled to, but left the village proper as soon as the firefight had died down.

Their trek back to the Jumper found them fired upon again. They took shelter as soon as they realized that the Jumper was between them and the rebels who were firing at them, placing their ride home in a precarious position. As the afternoon closed in on evening, they approached the cloaked Jumper only to find it in no condition to take to the air.

"Can you fix it?" John asked after giving Rodney some time to check out the damage.

Rodney shook his head and replied reluctantly, "No. I can't. I need lots more equipment and supplies than I have. I could use Radik. I don't know what kind of weapon they used, but that huge chunk missing from the right side? It's disabled life support completely."

"I guess we need life support, huh?"

"Colonel, I realize that it's not a long trip back, by Jumper, but you, Teyla and I all have intimate knowledge of really bad gate malfunctions." It was true, they did have that one bad experience that John could have gone the rest of his remaining days not thinking about. "We need life support. But even without it, I still can't get it in working order without…"

"Okay. Don't worry about it." Sheppard looked at each team member. "Then I guess we walk."

"Great," Rodney replied.

"It may not be possible to come back for the Jumper, depending on how everything progresses with the Ma'Cai," Teyla said.

"We'll try, but it may end up as a casualty of war," John conceded.

"Which would suck," Ronon Dex offered. John looked to Rodney who, in spite of his protestations that it wasn't his fault, still felt guilty about losing one Jumper, and Griffin, in the ocean just a few months before.

"Let's go," John ordered.

Their hike had started easily enough in daylight but had quickly turned far more complicated as the day turned to dusk and then dark. It had also been long and wet and painful, all four team members having lost their footing at some point during their trip, each suffering minor cuts, scrapes and bruises along the way. A steady rain had kept them company.

And then the bottom fell out from under them. Literally.

The constant rain in an already drenched near rainforest had made everything a sloppy, muddy mess. And treacherous. The rain made talking difficult and unpleasant. It was quiet, except for the loud noises of the rain hitting the foliage of the forest and slapping into their clothing and equipment. Quiet until the ground gave way. Each of them could hear the others now, grunting and yelling – Rodney screaming – as the ground fell out from under them. They tumbled down the newly-made hill, hitting rocks, roots, bushes and trees on their way down. Mud followed and nearly enveloped them until finally they were still.

The heavy rain began cleaning mud from their hair, their faces and their upper bodies, at least for those who ended in a position where it could. A dazed John Sheppard turned his P-90 across the landscape, its light offering the only illumination he would have in order to find his team.

"Ow," he said as he felt the scrape of at least one cracked rib. "Shit." He made a quick assessment of his other important body parts and determined that he would need to favor his right side from that point forward.

"Teyla? McKay? Ronon?" he shouted. He knew there was some risk in doing that, in yelling when they had been attacked just a few hours before, but he decided that the danger was mitigated by a couple of facts: they were not the target of the attacks, just unwilling, even unwitting bystanders in its execution, plus the hellish weather, which even rebels in a civil war knew better than to venture into, knowing it would gain them no tactical advantage.

"John, I am here. Look to your right," Teyla shouted back over the rain. Sheppard saw her and made his way slowly, very slowly through the mud.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Before waiting for an answer he yelled, "Rodney? Ronon?"

"I am fine, though I am stuck."

"We'll get you out," John assured her.

"Sheppard!" Ronon's voice easily cut through the clatter of the rain and the splattering of it all around.

"Ronon, where are…"

"I'm right here."

"Good. Did you see McKay?" John asked worriedly.

"No."

"McKay!" John shouted again. "Let's get Teyla unstuck," he added.

"It feels like there might be a small boulder under the mud. It is not pressing on me and I am not injured. I believe it is simply holding my foot down into the mud."

"It could just be suction," John suggested.

Ronon reached into the thick goo, felt around for quite some time and then struggled to force the rock from its resting place. After persistent effort and far too much time rocking back and forth, which _was_ causing the Athosian discomfort, Teyla was finally able to pull her leg from its swampy, sticky snare.

John did another sweep of the area with his weapon's beam and still could see no sign of McKay. He tapped his radio. "Rodney, can you hear me?" He waited for an answer. "I need you to help me find you, McKay." Finally, a little static came through the radio, and that voice, that not-as-cocky-as-normal but still lovably irritating voice shown through.

"I'm here. Somewhere."

"You okay?" Sheppard asked.

"Um. No. I wouldn't say that," Rodney replied, a little breathy and far too quiet.

"Rodney, I can't see you. I need you to call out so I know which way to look."

John thought he heard a shallow breath or two from McKay and then, "I can do that." A long pause, and then, "I may pass out after, though."

"Okay," John said, drawing the word out. "Maybe you should tell me what's wrong," the colonel suggested.

"Oh. Good idea." Rodney took a couple of breaths and then continued. "I think I sprained my foot." He paused for a breath. "I've got a cut above my eye." Another breath. "The blood is blinding me," another breath, "not that I really know," breath, "that with the rain and the dark," he added in inimitable McKay fashion. More labored breathing could be heard so John took his chance to interrupt.

"And you're saving the best for last."

"I guess you could say that." Breath. "I landed on a tree stump." Breath. "My chest did, that is." Breath. "It's kind of hard to…"

"Breathe," Rodney and John said together.

"Right," McKay added. "So, if I pass out from yelling…" Breath. "Just listen good, okay?"

"You bet. But maybe you'll get lucky and you won't pass out," Sheppard offered as an option.

"True. I'll probably be in unbearable pain, but…at least…I'll be awake."

"Okay. Take it easy. Stop talking for a minute." John didn't like the way Rodney sounded at all, or the fact that he was in a position where he felt he couldn't move out of what had to be a pretty unpleasant one. "Catch your breath. I'm gonna count to three and then I want you to yell. Okay?"

"Uh…huh."

"Good. A few more breaths, Rodney. Relax if you can. On three. Listen carefully everybody. One. Two…"

"Wait," McKay interrupted. "What should I yell?"

"How about 'Help'," Sheppard suggested as he rolled his eyes at Teyla and Ronon, too late to realize that the effort was probably wasted in the dark.

"Oh. Good thinking."

"Thanks. On three. One. Two. Three."

"Help!"

Rodney's voice pierced through the rain, closer than his teammates expected and farther down from where they stood.

"Be careful. Watch your step," the colonel instructed as they all headed down toward where they had heard McKay's call for help. "Good job, Rodney." There was no answer over the radio from the scientist. "McKay?" They kept walking, their lights from John and Teyla's P-90's and Ronon's flashlight illuminating the way. "McKay!" John shouted, hoping his own voice could be heard by his friend, assuming Rodney was still conscious.

They walked around a huge tree, a Giant Sequoia-sized tree to find another one just beyond it. This part of the forest was littered with the massive conifers. John thought, momentarily, that it would be nice to hike the area on a cool, sunny day, the thought bringing a brief memory of eating beef jerky while on a long and much-needed mind clearing hike through the Sierra Nevadas after his Afghanistan debacle.

Finally, by the side of the second tree they found McKay as he lay face down, his back raised up as though he had simply hunched over the stump rather than having been slammed hard down onto it by a torrent of thick mud.

"Rodney!" Teyla called as she moved as fast as she could with the thick soupy earth slowing her way.

"McKay!" John said urgently, reaching his friend first. He kneeled in the mud, with a groan and holding his side, and tried to look at Rodney's face. He felt for a pulse.

"I'm alive," Rodney said, barely above a whisper.

"That's good to know, buddy," John said as he grasped the scientist's neck warmly. "So, any other injuries I need to know about besides your foot, head and chest?" he asked as he wiped across the downed man's face with a cloth. "None of this blood is coming from your mouth, is it?" He knew the question would upset his patient, but he needed to know what he was dealing with before moving McKay from his perch.

"Um, no. The blood is from my head. But…you think I might have punctured a lung? I…I don't think, no, I think…that's it. Except, of course…for the dozens…of bruises I'm gonna…have."

"You and me both," John said, keeping his voice light. He stood up to check out the area. He put his hand down on Rodney's back and pressed it affectionately. "Hold tight. We'll get you outta here in a jiffy." He stood and turned to the rest of his team. "We can't head back up. It'll be rough on him, and we'd probably be fighting a losing battle anyway. I think we should head down, try to find level ground, shelter if we can. Hope that the rains end soon."

"I agree. This hill remains dangerous so long as the rain continues," Teyla replied.

"If we don't find shelter, or a thick canopy, we'll need to pitch a tent," Ronon said.

"Yeah. We're lucky it's warm, but he could be in trouble whether it's warm or cold. We need to get him out of the rain, at least." John kneeled next to Rodney, but didn't get a chance to explain before McKay started in.

"I agree. Help me up. I can't get…a grip on anything, and…I can't push off with my foot." He paused to get in some decent air and then added, "Be gentle." Rodney's groans and uneven breathing were the indicators that they hadn't been gentle enough in getting their friend up. The glare of the flashlight on McKay's pale face told that story even more eloquently.

"Rodney, I know this is gonna hurt. I want you to try to let Ronon and me do most of the work here. Pretend your only job is to move your uninjured foot every other step," John instructed.

"And breathe," Rodney added.

"That, too."

"Okay, but I think…that will be harder…than you…think."

"Well, give it a try anyway. And concentrate on breathing and not talking," Sheppard said lightly, though worry tinged every word.

"This must be…like a dream…come true…for you…" Rodney started. He was interrupted by a cough, a bad sounding cough but not yet a pneumonia sounding cough. But the pain the cough was causing McKay's already badly bruised chest made Rodney's three teammates grimace in sympathy. "You should…feel bad for me," he added, followed by a terrible moan of pain as he leaned in to hold his chest. His head now rested on John's shoulder.

"Take it easy, Rodney. Stop talking. That's an order."

The scientist kept his head leaned on his friend's shoulder and chuckled, aggravating the cough. John put his hand on McKay's back and rubbed, hoping to do what he could to help calm the convulsions. Rodney kept breathing and finally the coughing subsided. He lifted his head tiredly, looked at John and said, "Aye-aye."

"McKay," Sheppard warned. Rodney took his hand from his chest and moved it to his mouth, where he mimed the turning of a key. John smiled, happy to see that his friend was still able to keep his sense of humor. Rodney's sometimes biting, even harsh humor might be a defense mechanism most of the time, but if it helped him get through the tough stuff they faced day in and day out here in this galaxy, then John wouldn't be the one to stifle it. Any of it.

"Let's move out."

And that was how John Sheppard found himself trying, for the third time, to get Rodney McKay up and out of their tent. They had indeed found a good canopy in the forest and were able to make camp and stay dry for the four hours until daylight. Rodney had slept, not soundly, but he hadn't developed a persistent, rattling cough, either. It was a small thing to be thankful for, but John was willing to take even a small triumph right now.

"Dr. McKay, here is a power bar and a cup of water," Teyla offered through the flap of the small tent.

"That's all that we get for breakfast?" Rodney complained. He started to push himself to a sitting position, but gave up as he grabbed his chest and groaned. "That really, really hurts."

"Here, let me help you up." McKay held on as Sheppard eased him into a standing position. Rodney remained stooped over, his chest aching. His foot also hurt, but they had decided to keep the boot on, though unlaced, through the night; that injury might take longer than normal to heal due to the delayed treatment, but it was important that McKay stay mobile, relatively speaking, as the colonel had said when they made camp.

Much to Rodney's chagrin, Ronon helped him with his morning routine – an embarrassing few minutes that McKay would not let Sheppard soon forget – and then McKay sat quietly eating his breakfast. He knew they had chosen not to cook so as not to draw attention to their position. Unfortunately, the power bar seemed to sit heavily in his stomach, making him feel that much worse.

Rodney watched as his team cleared up their campsite. He decided he needed to have a session with Heightmeyer upon his return to Atlantis. He'd experienced one too many of these kinds of missions. Maybe he was doing something purposefully to cause these things to happen to him. Or maybe it was his subconscious. Maybe his team had stopped watching him as closely as they used to; he was now as experienced as any member of any off world team. But he still wasn't military, and no matter how much experience he had, many of the things they went through on these missions still felt foreign to him: shooting a gun, aiming with possible intent to kill at a human being, or at least someone who seemed human, physical fights – he would never be any good at hand-to-hand or extreme survival of any kind.

Maybe he no longer needed his hand held like a novice anymore, but he didn't feel like an expert on any of those things. Science and technology? Well, that was different.

"McKay?"

"Hm?" His teammates were staring at him. "What?"

"Are you okay? Did you hit your head more than you admitted?" John asked.

"Colonel, any hit to my head should be seen as the potentially devastating circumstance that it is, not just for my own well-being, but to our overall mission in the Pegasas Galaxy." Sheppard raised his eyebrows, waiting for what would come next. "But no, my head is fine. Well, as good as can be expected. I was just…thinking."

"Oh. That's good. I like it when you're thinking. You seem to be breathing okay."

"Yes, yes. That is a relief, I must admit. Of course, my chest still feels like I had a head-on collision with Ronon at one hundred miles per hour, or one hundred sixty point nine three for the metric fans among us."

"There aren't any of those here, Rodney."

"Oh. Well. Shall we go?"

As it turned out, McKay seemed quite a bit more mobile than expected and they made surprisingly good time on their long route to the gate. They were no more than a mile out, with Rodney finally starting to falter pretty badly when they heard a welcome and familiar voice over the radio.

"Colonel Sheppard, this is Major Lorne. Do you copy?"

"Do we ever copy! Good job. Do you see us?" Sheppard asked.

"We see your life signs. We'll be there in a jiffy," Lorne replied.

"Jiffy?" Rodney questioned, just barely audible. "What is it with…the colloq…colloqui…" McKay began to eke out. He quit, realizing it really wasn't worth the payoff. John looked closely at his friend. He was huffing badly, pale and drenched. The rains had stopped and left coolness in the still humidity-filled early morning air. The refreshing aspects of the morning seemed completely lost on the physicist.

"You feeling okay?" John asked as he stood next to his friend. McKay seemed to deflate at the question, as though the knowledge that their rescuers were just moments away had drained all of his reserves. He looked up sadly at the Air Force colonel.

"I, um," he started, but stopped. It seemed an effort to get even that much out.

"McKay?" John could spot Rodney on his last legs a mile away, so long as he was paying attention and not trying to defend and run from Wraith or Genii or other villains of this faraway galaxy. "Hey, how about we sit and relax against one of these giant trees?"

Rodney blinked and said nothing, but rather nodded his head in agreement. The pain in his chest had to be pretty bad, John thought, because he walked on his sprained ankle, still limping but ignoring the pain completely in favor of favoring his chest. The colonel took McKay's arm and steered and steadied him to the big tree. He swiftly grabbed for his P-90, though, as he saw a group approach; a group that was not Lorne and their rescue party. He let go of McKay just as Rodney's legs gave out. He landed hard on his knees.

"Shit, Rodney. Sorry," Sheppard said, feeling guilty and apologetic for not catching McKay before he fell. Teyla and Ronon covered them as Rodney started to move, oblivious to the newcomers.

"No, it's okay," Rodney said as he crawled on all fours and then stopped in front of the tree. "I could use some help now, though." John helped turn the scientist around and got him sitting up against the tree.

"What do you want?" Teyla asked the group.

"Better?" John asked Rodney.

"Marin sent us to make sure you were all right, that you had made it to the Ring of the Ancestors without difficulty."

"In relation to a bed in the infirmary, no," the physicist answered the Air Force colonel. "Otherwise, yes." Rodney watched as John held his side. "Are you okay?" he asked, ignoring the other conversation but finally aware that it was going on.

"We are fine," Teyla said. "Our people will be here momentarily."

"Good. We can stay and help…"

"We are fine. Please tell Marin," the Athosian instructed, a clear dismissal to all Mc'Cai present.

"Very well." The Mc'Cai team headed away.

"Cracked rib, I think," John answered. Having overheard Teyla's conversation, he said to her, "Not exactly encouraging trade there, Miss Diplomat."

"I believe that we will do fine without a partnership with these people."

John raised his eyebrow at the curtness of her answer. He definitely agreed, though he wasn't altogether sure that Elizabeth Weir would be happy about the conclusion. He sat quietly next to his friend for a moment longer and then said, "None of this is anybody's fault, McKay." Rodney looked back at him with a frown. "I could see it in your face at breakfast." McKay cocked his head up, his chin jutted out, ready to challenge the presumption, but settled on a nod, finally. "I think it's just a matter of timing and bad luck sometimes. If Teyla had been behind me instead of you, then she would have got the brunt of it."

Rodney rubbed his sore chest and replied, "As a man of science I cannot continue to ignore the numbers." Resting seemed to have done wonders in helping Rodney find his voice again. Or at least his breath.

"The numbers?" Sheppard asked.

"Don't be dense. Statistically speaking, it is on the extreme side of statistical improbability that I could get injured this much. Factoring in that I am a scientist and the numbers just get more…Ow. I hurt. Nevermind."

"I wouldn't worry about the numbers," John said reassuringly. "There are some things that you just cannot know how much to factor in, like that we're in a different galaxy, encountering people from different worlds and using technology that we're still learning new things about every day. There's a curve there that you need to consider. I wouldn't go crazy lining up a spot at Kate's door."

Rodney looked at John again. How did he know these things?

"You're easy to read, McKay," Sheppard added at the scientist's perplexed expression. "Close your eyes and relax. We'll have you to Carson before you know it."

McKay did as he was told. His mind took him back to wondering about psychoanalysis. Maybe he didn't need to see Kate Heightmeyer about all of his misadventures, but it wouldn't hurt to see if she could help him with his friends' ability to read his every emotion and mood. It would, at minimum, just maybe, give him a better shot at losing less on poker night.

The End.


End file.
